


Nothing Says 'I Love You' Like Fisting

by mikkimouse



Series: Tumblr Fics [79]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Discussion of fisting, M/M, Minor Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, Oblivious Stiles, POV Multiple, Pining Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:44:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse/pseuds/mikkimouse
Summary: Stiles thought the shirt was hilarious, okay? He’d laughed for at least five minutes when he’d first seen it and had bought it without a second thought. Something like that? He had to own it.Besides, “Nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like fisting” could practically be his life’s motto.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this T-shirt](http://aquaswept.tumblr.com/post/145258104756) (thanks, [bleep0bleep](https://tmblr.co/meGGbDFQ5ByYV9CwOG5uTbg)!). Thank you to [fauvistfly](https://tmblr.co/mpdjYAL6SUBXuoV5KgK6Ezg) and [spellwovennight](https://tmblr.co/mVAWMlTufiF-mhjj62sRdeQ) for the beta!
> 
> Originally posted to Tumblr [here](https://mad-madam-m.tumblr.com/post/145334424700/ive-had-the-worst-daynight-i-told-my-best).

Stiles thought the shirt was _hilarious_ , okay? He’d laughed for at least five minutes when he’d first seen it and had bought it without a second thought. Something like that? He _had_ to own it.

Besides, “Nothing says ‘I love you’ quite like fisting” could practically be his life’s motto. 

He and Scott had a great laugh over the shirt, and then Stiles threw it in the drawer with the rest of his graphic tees and generally forgot about it. 

So he didn’t really _intend_ to show up for the pack meeting at Derek’s loft with the shirt on. It just sort of happened to be the first clean one he grabbed, and then when he realized it, he left it on because he thought Erica would get a kick out of it. 

Stiles tossed his hoodie on the coat rack as soon as he walked in the door and went to the kitchen, where everybody was milling around. He gave Erica a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Hey, Catwoman.” 

“Hey yourse— _ohhhhh my God!_ ”

Erica’s eyes went huge (just as Stiles had hoped) and then she dropped her head to the table, shoulders shaking, laughing so hard she squeaked with every inhale. Stiles grinned and stuck out his chest so as better to display the shirt. 

“Are you hitting on my girlfriend, Stilinski?” Boyd asked.

Stiles waved at his chest. “Just offering her some suggestions for the bedroom.” 

Boyd just slowly raised his cup of coffee to his lips. “Then you’ll need to find a new suggestion.” 

Stiles choked on nothing, and Erica _howled_ with laughter. 

On the other side of the kitchen, something shattered and Derek swore. 

Shit, that didn’t sound good. Stiles stepped around Erica, intending to go to him. “Whoa, Derek, you okay?” 

“Fine! Fine,” Derek said. “Don’t come any closer, there’s ceramic everywhere. I’ll get a broom.”

“I have shoes on!” Stiles pointed out, but Derek was already beating a path out of the kitchen to the cleaning closet. “That was kind of weird.” 

“Derek loves a clean kitchen,” Boyd said. “You know, you should sit right there and make sure he gets a good view of your shirt when he comes back.”

“Oh.” Stiles looked down at his shirt and his face heated. He really hadn’t considered he’d be making an explicit fisting joke in front of _Derek_. “You, uh, you sure?”

“Yeah.” Boyd smiled behind his coffee mug. “It’ll be hilarious.” 

***

Stiles wasn’t sure _what_ was supposed to be hilarious. Derek didn’t speak to him. Derek barely _looked_ at him. Once the kitchen was swept up, Derek moved into the living room and scowled at the opposite wall for most of the pack meeting. 

Stiles took everyone’s jokes about his shirt good-naturedly, but he kept glancing at Derek out of the corner of his eye. 

Once almost everyone else had drifted off after they were finished, Stiles cornered Boyd in the kitchen. “Is Derek mad at me?” 

Boyd raised his eyebrows. “Why the hell would you think that?” 

“Because he isn’t talking to me. He’s barely looked at me all day.” Stiles stared down at his shirt. “Did I offend him or something?” 

“How the hell would I know?” Boyd gestured to himself. “Do I look like Derek?” 

“You should definitely go ask him,” Erica piped up from where she was digging in the fridge. 

Boyd inclined his head at her. “She has a point. Only way to find out is to ask him.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at them both. “Maybe I _will_ , then.” 

He gave both Erica and Boyd one last glare, and then he stomped off in search of Derek. This was really ridiculous. If Derek had a problem with his shirt, why didn’t he just _say_ something instead of ignoring Stiles and glowering at the corner like it had offended him? 

He found Derek outside on the balcony. Stiles thought about saying something well-reasoned for about half a second, and then discarded it in favor of, “What the fuck is your problem, dude?” 

Derek jerked like he’d been slapped and spun around to face Stiles. “My problem?” 

“Yes, your problem! You’ve been giving me the silent treatment since I got here! What gives?” 

Derek’s gaze darted to somewhere over Stiles’s right shoulder. “I haven’t been giving you the silent treatment.” 

“Oh my God.” Stiles dragged his hands through his hair. “This is literally the longest we’ve talked since I got here. Are you mad at me?” 

“No!” 

“Did I do something to offend you, then?” Stiles gestured to his chest. “Do you have a problem with my clothes?” 

Derek buried his face in his hands. “Oh God.”

“Does the thought of me enjoying fisting disgust you or something?” 

Derek let out a strangled groan. “Please stop.”

“Stop what?” Stiles wasn’t yelling, but it was a near thing. “I’m just trying to figure out why you won’t even look at me right now! I didn’t realize the fisting shirt was going to bother you that fucking much.” 

“It doesn’t!” Derek finally dropped his hands away from his face. “But it makes it pretty fucking hard to think about anything else!”

“Wait, what?” Stiles shook himself. “You’re thinking about fisting? Wait, are you thinking about fisting _me_?” 

Derek’s face turned beet red. “No.”

It took Stiles a minute to put the pieces together, the way Derek still wasn’t looking at him, the way he was blushing so hard it was a wonder he didn’t set the air on fire. 

Stiles gasped so loud he started coughing.

Derek was immediately at his side. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh my God, are you thinking about _me_ fisting _you_?” Stiles asked as soon as he could breathe again.

Derek jerked away like he’d touched a live wire. He actually turned _redder_. 

Stiles couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God,” he said again. “You’re thinking about me fisting you.” 

He still couldn’t quite understand the words coming out of his mouth. It was like saying the oceans were bright orange or the sky was not blue. Yes, it was a grammatically correct sentence, but it didn’t make any fucking _sense_. 

“Look, just…go, okay?” Derek waved toward the door. “I’m sorry. It’ll be fine, just give me a couple of days. And maybe don’t…wear the shirt here.” 

And no, Stiles was not losing this opportunity. “What if I want to?” He blurted out. “I mean, not wear the shirt again, but do the other thing. The fisting thing. What if I want to do that?” 

Derek blinked at him, eyes huge and still blushing furiously. “You…what?” 

Oh God. Stiles was blushing now. His face felt hot enough to cook on. “What if I wanted to? What if I wanted to do that, and maybe have you do it to me, and maybe take you out to dinner or for coffee or—” 

“Yes,” Derek cut him off. “Yes. Um. Maybe dinner first?” 

“Sure! Yes!” Stiles nodded furiously. “Whatever order you want to do things in. Dinner first, dessert later, dessert in a few weeks, dessert whenever you feel like it.”

Derek ducked his head, but not before Stiles caught a small smile playing at his lips. “That sounds good.”

This had to be too good to be true, but by God, Stiles wasn’t letting the chance slip out of his hands. “Are you free Friday? I get off work at six.” 

“Friday’s great,” Derek said. “Perfect.” 

“Perfect,” Stiles echoed. He was grinning like an idiot. “I’ll, uh, see you then?”

Derek smiled wider, and it was like watching the goddamn sun rise. “Yeah. I’ll see you then.” 

***

“Does this count as getting together?” Erica asked.

Boyd walked up beside her to watch Derek and Stiles awkwardly smile and blush at each other. “Considering they’re making plans for a date, I’d say yes.” 

Erica grinned. “That means McCall owes us fifty bucks.” 

Boyd held up his fist, and Erica bumped it. He winked at her. “You know, nothing says I love you like fisting.” 

Erica cackled and wrapped her arms around him. “Well, if we head back to our place, that means I can say ‘I love you’ as many times as you like.” 

Boyd kissed the top of her head. “Well, since our work _here_ is done…” 

Erica led him out of the loft, laughing all the way.


End file.
